Upside Down
by moonlitelm
Summary: When Wendy and Eric started dating, they didn't realize it would turn their whole life upside down. Stuck in a circle of chaos, they wonder if things would ever be normal in South Park. Candy, ClydeBebe, hints at Stendy, K2
1. Prologue

This is a new fanfic. I've been secretly writing it while working on Run Away, and I couldn't leave it anymore. The angst needed me.

Summary: Cartman and Clyde find out a secret that could make or break them. When they start noticing strange similarities between them, they put two and two together. KIND OF AN AU FIC.

Prologue

*

"_She's losing a lot of blood!"_

"_There's...Jesus Christ, there's two of them!" A nurse wailed, eyes on the machines around them. How no one had never noticed before, was a mystery._

_Liane's head lolled uselessly to the side, sweat plastering her hair to her face. A woman stood on one side of her, a man on the other. Doctors rushed around her, but she paid no mind to them._

"_Are you okay?" The woman asked her warmly. They weren't listening to the doctors or nurses. The man and woman were focused solely on how Liane's pretty face was paling. Rapidly._

"_I'm...Ah!" Liane's lips parted in a scream, her back arching. They had been too late for the drugs, and it was going to be going natural. She was scared, and delirious with pain. _

"_It's gonna be okay! Just push!"_

_Liane listened to the nurse, pushing with all of her might. Her lowers body flared with pain, before a deep calm came over her. The doctors rushed around some more, before a loud wailing filled her ears._

"_Who..." The doctor started._

_The woman smiled. "Let Liane."_

_Liane looked down at the bundle in her arms tiredly. "It's a boy." The man whispered, eyes milky with tears._

_She smiled weakly, a deep sadness filling her heart. Her eyes stayed focused on the baby. His mouth was scrunched up into a scowl, eyes squinting as they tried hopelessly to see. He made small whimpering noises, tiny fists flailing around in search of something. She raised a finger to his hand, heart nearly breaking when he closed his small, chubby fist around her finger, mouth opening wide to swallow it whole._

"_Push!"_

_It was fourty four minutes before the second one was born. Liane lay in the bed, one in each arm. They were sleeping peacefully, content to lay against the woman who birthed them. Tears filled her eyes as she turned to the man and woman who were standing over her, staring down._

"_I can't do this." She whispered brokenly, body giving a weak tremble. "I'm sorry Mr and Mrs Donovan. I just can't."_

"_Liane." Mr Donovan started slowly "We had a deal."_

"_Honey –"_

"_No. We paid her good money." He argued. His wife was a kinder, more understanding person._

"_Only for one." Liane said, more confident now. "You only paid for one."_

"_She's right," Mrs Donovan said, nodding._

"_Honey, that other one's our flesh and blood." He said blandly, shaking his head no. _

"_We only paid for one dear. Please." Mrs Donovan begged. She wanted more kids of course, but the look on Liane's face made her want to cry._

_Mr Donovan looked at the chubby boy in Liane's arms, before shaking his head. He reached out and grabbed the smaller of the two, lifting him into his arms. _

"_Clyde." Mrs Donovan said, nestling against her husband's side. "What are you going to name him...?" She asked Liane gently, reaching down to stroke her finger against the other boys cheek. _

_Liane watched her finger stroke the baby, smiling to herself, albeit sadly. "Eric..." _

_Mr Donovan's eyes shot up. "After...him?"_

"_Yes..." She sighed and looked away, pulling the baby closer._

_The paperwork was filled, the bills paid. The Donovan's and Liane Cartman went their separate ways. _

_That night as she lay in the hospital bed, staring at the baby bed beside her, she whispered a secret promise._

"_Eric. You're not mine but I love you. I'll love you forever, poopsikins. Mommy's sorry..."_

_With that, Liane laid her head down and cried for the loss of her second child._

_Not her flesh and blood, but she had carried him for nine months, felt him grow inside of her. _

_She knew then that she'd never feel whole again._


	2. Chapter 1

Eric lay on his back, stretched out across his bed. One arm was folded under his head, and his eyes were half closed. His chest rose and fell slowly with his deep breaths. He raised a hand finally, setting it on the back of his girlfriend's head.

She was curled on his side, nestled across her chest and belly. She had a book propped up on him and was silently reading.

Suddenly, he grunted. "Wendy you're vibrating." He complained through his sleepy haze, forcing his eyes to open a little more.

She sighed dejectedly as she leaned way over him, grabbing her cell from beside his head. She didn't bother moving off of him, choosing instead to flop down. "What? Craig?" She asked incredulously as she stared at the call display.

Eric's eyes darkened as he propped himself up, watching Wendy slide down his torso to land in his lap. "What the fuck does that cocksucker want?" He snapped. When Wendy shrugged, he sighed and shook his head. "Answer it."

"Don't tell me what to do." She retorted while flipping the purple phone open. "Craig? What do you want?"

"Wendy, I just wanted to talk to you."

Wendy's eyes narrowed and she shook her head. "Stan? Why do you have Craig's phone?"

"He let me borrow it. You weren't answering for me or Kyle." Stan explained. She could hear the smile in his voice. "It's good to hear from you Wendy."

"Stan." She started again. Eric's lips were curled into a snarl, a murderous look in his eyes. "Stan, stop calling me. There's nothing I want to talk to you about. I wasn't answering for a reason. And you see me every day at school."

"I know. But I can't talk to you then," He sounded perfectly conversational as he ignored her protests. "I wouldn't want your new friend to get pissed off at me. Wendy, what are you doing with him?" Stan's voice softened as he asked the question he'd been meaning to for months.

"Stan I'm going to say this one time, and one time only." She lowered her voice, sighing softly. "You and I lasted for a long time, but most things aren't forever. I don't love you anymore. I'm with Cartman now, not you. And you're harassing me. So stop, before he gets more blood thirsty than he already is."

"How the fuck can you _say_ that Wendy?" Stan cried, indignant. She could imagine him standing, beer bottle knocking over. It would spill over onto the floor, and Craig would jump up, swearing and smacking at Kenny to get a towel. For a moment, she missed those times. Then she took a glance at the man whose lap she was laying in, and smiled. No, she had made the right decision.

"What do you mean?"

"You still call him by his last name Wendy. You've been dating him for weeks and you still call him Cartman!"

"What I call him isn't the point Stanley! You were his best friend for thirteen years, and you still call him Cartman! Stan please, just leave me alone!"

"Are you putting out for _him _Wendy?" Dear God, Stan was drunk. Call the press. What the hell was it with Marsh men and alcohol?

"Stan!" Wendy felt her cheeks flush. She pulled away from Cartman, yelping when he grabbed her around the waist, dragging her close. The phone was snatched out of her hand, and she groaned.

"Marsh, I don't give two fucking shits how long you and Wendy dated, or long you and I were friends for –"

"We're not friends?" Stan sounded hurt.

"But if you don't leave her the fuck alone, so help me Hitler I will break every last finger you have, then cut out your tongue. Leave her alone Stan." Eric's voice dropped to a dangerous, husky growl. "I'm not playing."

The was silence on the line for a moment, a sigh, then a click. Eric listened to the dial tone for a minute, before flipping the phone shut and tossing it over to his desk. He gave an aggravated huff, flopping down once more.

"I'm sorry." Wendy muttered, laying herself across his chest again. She smiled contentedly when his hand began to trail from her head to bum, stroking her like a cat. Generally, she would have gone on about how women weren't pets.

But, she had seen the way Eric treated his pets. Sure, he was rough with them, but they kept coming back.

*

Clyde watched Stan's angry face, as he stormed around the room, smashing things and swearing. Craig and Token were listening half heartedly, but Kyle looked downright distracted.

For a moment, seeing all of them together like that made a strange feeling curl in Clyde's tummy. They had all grown up hating each other. He could only barely remember how they had became friends in the first place. _I think Kyle started it_ He muttered mentally, eyeing the redhead.

The first year of high school had been fucked up. They were going to classes with kids from out counties too. A nasty fight had broken out between Tweek and some other kid from North Park. After that, the enemies for life became friends. Originally for protection, it had quickly spun into pleasure. They all got along fairly well, and it was great having someone to call up no matter what you wanted to do.

Ah, Clyde loved his life. He leaned back as Stan trampled past him, still on the warpath. He was _reaaally, really, __**really**_hung up about Wendy still.

He raised a hand, running it through his hair lightly, eyes downcast. When he lifted them from the floor, he noticed Kyle giving him a strange look.

"What dude?" He mouthed, eyebrow hitched. He watched as Kyle's eye twitched, the redhead flicking his eyes towards Kenny.

The poor blonde boy was smirking, leaning back into the cushions of the armchair. One leg was raised, the ankle crossed over the opposite knee. His hands were folded neatly in his lap, and with his bangs hanging into his face, casting his eyes in shadows, Clyde thought he looked like some sort of mob man, making a deal.

The look on Kenny's face told Clyde that he knew something. Knew something that no one else knew.

The smirk that fluttered onto Kenny's cracked, scabbed lips told Clyde that he'd have to find out what it was on his own.

Damn Kenny and his will to keep secrets.


	3. Chapter 2

Clyde felt a little guilty. Wendy and Cartman were sitting in a corner, by themselves. Even Butters wasn't over there, bugging the shit out of the star hockey player. He sighed and looked around his own table. Stan looked pissed off, but everyone else looked cautious.

_Stan used to be so peaceful_ Clyde mused, chewing on his plastic fork. The prongs were bent at odd angles, little indents splattered randomly from where his teeth chomped unmercifully.

Kenny was giving him an amused look, eyes laughing at him. He shrugged it off and poked at his food some more. It wasn't really...fair that Wendy and Cartman were sitting by themselves. They had sat with the group until the drunken phone call last weekend.

Now, they just sat by themselves. Stan had made it perfectly clear he didn't want Wendy around if she was with Cartman. Generally the lard ass would have fought tooth and nail, saying how it was his birth right to sit with South Park kids. However, this time he had remained silent. He had stared at Stan, eyes narrowed, before turning and walking away.

Some ninth graders were thoroughly threatened out of their spot and voila. They had their table. Bebe and Red wanted to be around the 'cool guys', so they hadn't joined their friend...

Plus, neither of them really wanted to be around Cartman. He eyed the lard ass, watching as he laughed and tossed a grape into Wendy's mouth. He had never seen tubby be so genuinely friendly to anymore. Who knew a little bit of ass would get him to loosen up so much?

Ah, Clyde was overreacting. Mentally, he berated himself. Eric wasn't really that bad. Sure, he was loud mouthed and foul, but fuck. They all had their quirks. He cast a look around his table, smiling like an idiot. Yeah, they definitely had their quirks.

Token was black – not really a quirk, but something that stood out, for sure.

Craig flipped people off.

Tweek was a coffee addict.

Kyle was so silent, everyone thought he would snap and commit mass murder at any given moment.

Stan was an alcoholic football star who preached about how drinking was bad, while tossing back a bottle of vodka.

Butters was a freak who they just _knew _wore panties instead of boxers, like the _real_ men.

Kenny could get anyone just by winking. Guy or girl. Hell, half the time they didn't even care that he was poor as shit, just so long as they got a piece of his ass.

They all had their quirks, and Cartman wasn't any different. His little things were fucking mean, and sometimes scary but...

Not having Cartman on their side wasn't going to be a good thing. The rest of the guys were tough – okay, minus Tweeker and Butters – but still. Cartman was someone you did just not fuck with. That guy was a tank, and, as much as none of them wanted to admit it, most likely smarter than even Kyle freakin' Broflovski.

Clyde had already noticed the predatory look most people gave them now that Cartman was away. Many pranks had been played, and now that the defence wasn't there, they wanted to give their 'thanks' to dyed hair and other such nonsense. Fuck.

Fuckity fuck fuck fuck. Clyde groaned softly, reaching out to steal Craig's pudding. Not like that fucker needed it anyway. He was...well, scrawny as shit, and probably _could_ use the pudding but really. Clyde needed it more. It would calm his fears.

He dipped his spoon into the gooey goodness, lapping the vanilla snack off with a content smile.

*

Kenny's eyes roamed the cafeteria boredly. He sat without a lunch, merely sipping on a bottle of water...that he had actually stolen from Kyle, but eh...

He hummed under his breath, using his pencil to tap a random beat against the table. Kyle was giving him concerned looks, staring at his lunch, then at Kenny.

The blonde shook his head slightly, a silent answer to a silent question. He didn't take fucking charity.

Kyle's face fell and he nodded, looking away. Kenny knew that the Brof got upset when he didn't eat but really. He wasn't a charity case. If Kyle had dared him to eat his lunch, or bet him that he couldn't finish the whole thing that would be a different story. But he couldn't just give it to him. That totally fucked up Kenny's self righteous image!

He hummed some more, deciding it would be more interesting to watch Clyde. His eyes roamed over the boy, and he felt a smile sneak onto his face when the slightly chubby brunet snatched Craig's pudding. His best friend didn't even notice, too busy hating life to care.

Clyde licked his spoon the same way Cartman did. Years of getting and giving head had taught him to watch the tongues. You always wanted to go for someone who knew their way around ice cream. Or, in this case, pudding.

Clyde definitely knew his way around pudding. A crooked, lecherous grin trampled over his smile, replacing it easily. He felt his leg get kicked under the table, and his gaze shot over to Kyle.

The redhead was glaring at him darkly, shaking his head. Clearly, he was trying to tell Kenny that Clyde was off limits. Kenny huffed, blowing his bangs out of his eyes for a split second. He wouldn't touch Clyde.

He'd just sit there and observe.

*

Kyle glanced at Clyde, then at Cartman. It was hard to tell what fatass was doing, seeing as he was sitting across the cafeteria, but still.

He was trying. Not because he wanted to know, but because Kenny had asked him. He wasn't curious at all. The idea was positively ludicrous.

He knew he had a better eye than Kenny. Not for emotional things – Kyle had the emotional stature of a dead log – but with the physical. When Kenny looked at someone, he gauged them in manners of sex, looks, boob size. Kyle noticed all the small details, the little things that made up a person.

Being the quiet kid was probably what gave him that skill.

That skill was probably what forced him to notice the little mark just above Clyde's shirt collar.

Fuck.


	4. Chapter 3

Kenny loved Stan. The dude was like a brother to him. But he had known Cartman for just as long. The guy was a fucking asshole, but he was still one of Kenny's closest friends. He knew that if shit went down, Cartman would be there for him.

Which was why he was currently punching Stan's face in.

If there was one thing you didn't do, it was mess with a McCormick kid.

He knew Stan was a dumb drunk. He knew it. The guy had proven it multiple times. Fuck, he had gotten smashed on time and practically humped Tweek 'till Butters tattled and Kyle went into a screaming rage. It had been one of those rare times where Kyle actually exploded on his best friend.

Usually they went off and had a quiet talk.

No. This was ridiculous. He loosened his grip on Stan's arm, watching as he stumbled back then landed on his ass in the snow. He didn't want to hurt his friend. He really, honestly and truly, did not. Sometimes though, you gotta do what you gotta do. And he had to beat up Stan.

Either he beat up Stan, or Cartman beat up Stan. It was going to be one of them. He was certain that Cartman wouldn't have stopped when Stan spat out blood along with a tooth. He didn't feel the slightest bit guilty as he stared down at one of his best friends, bloodied and bruised by his hands.

Stan had it coming.

Of course, he wasn't beating his best friend up for no reason at all. He wouldn't have even thought about beating Stan up if it hadn't been for...

What happened between Cartman and Stan, happened between them. They weren't getting along, and that was fine. They'd get over it. It was just a little fight over a girl. It was all _fine._

Having Wendy call his junky old phone at three o'clock in the morning, crying and asking him to come over before her dad called the cops or beat Stan's head in with a baseball bat was _not_ fine.

He knew she called him as a last resort. Calling Cartman would have definitely gotten Stan killed. Kenny was half tempted to call him now, get him to come kick Stan when he was down. That wouldn't be fair though.

He sighed and flicked his hair out of his face, kicking Stan in the leg "Get up." He said in a dead voice, eyes blank.

"Nng" Stan groaned, shaking his head. He didn't want to get up. If he couldn't get up, maybe the McCormick kid wouldn't hit him no more.

He had seen Stu get into fights too. He was a tall man, but not very big. He was fucking scary when he got into a fight. His son wasn't any less intimidating. Stan sat in the snow for a minute, head spinning. The taste of blood made his nose cringe, and he found himself vomiting all over his pants.

Kenny sighed as he watched the pitiful state of his friend. He squatted to eye level, the smell of vomit not even fazing him. Living in his end of town, you got used to smelling weird shit. "Stan. You're my best bro, you know that. But right now, I can't fucking look at you. Call me when you sober up dude." He said softly.

He stood and walked away, leaving his friend in the snow. He loved the dude, but sometimes, love hurt.

*

Wendy watched from her bedroom window, cheeks coloured with the embarrassment of crying. She felt bad for calling Ken, and seeing Stan get his ass so thoroughly handed to him made her heart hurt. She stayed upstairs as Kenny walked away. When Stan still didn't get up she slipped her boots on and grabbed her coat.

She bundled herself up, shivering in the early morning air. "Stanley." She called as she approached. He looked up at her, face smeared with blood. Wendy's heart thumped in her chest, an overwhelming feeling of guilt crawling into her gut.

"Wendy." He sniffled pathetically. He cried a lot when he was drunk, she remembered.

"Come on Stan." She kept her voice soft, as if she were talking to a small animal. She knew the smallest thing could set him off. He wasn't a violent drunk, just a whiney one. And she really didn't want to deal with him sobbing about their break up. It was easier to deal with him crying over being beaten up. "Let's get you inside and clean you up okay?"

She snuck him into her house with him close behind, like she had done so many times before. He was brought up to her room, stripped of his wet clothes. She had seen him naked before, it wasn't a big deal. She still had a pair of his pants in her room. He was dressed, then shoved into bed.

"Go to sleep Stanley." She whispered, stroking his hair out of his face.

Stan nodded, curling up on his side and falling asleep.

Wendy washed and dried his clothes, crawling in bed beside him at around five thirty in the morning. She figured it was Saturday, she could sleep in a little...catch up on the sleep she lost crying on the phone to Kenny, then cleaning barf out of her ex-boyfriends clothes.

As Wendy fell asleep, she was unaware of one Eric Cartman sitting awake in his room, planning on paying her a visit that morning.


	5. Chapter 4

Wendy generally woke up early, but Eric figured her parents would get pissed off if he popped up at six am. So he waited until noon. He knew what he was about to do was a fucking pussy move, but still.

Girls liked that mushy shit, right? Or at least, that's what all the dating books said...

...Not that he read dating books. He just happened to, ah, find one of his mothers book. About um...Fuck.

Okay, so one time. Don't judge him – Wendy had been his first girlfriend, and one he had admired immensely. Everyone thought he hated her due to the name calling but...

If you considered Eric a friend and he _didn't_ call you names, you should be worried. Name calling was how you could tell he really cared about you. Fuck, he treated Kyle worse than shit stuck to your shoe, but he had still gone out on several limbs to save him before.

Wendy was no different. She was a hippie bitch, a cunt, and Eric was madly and deeply in love with her. They hadn't even had sex yet, and he was telling her he loved her. The look of surprise on her face had made his heart flutter, although he denied it adamantly. Of course, he got into a fist fight with someone right after...the guy hadn't done anything, but he had to assert his manliness somehow.

That had been their one month anniversary. Today was their second month anniversary. He wondered if Wendy kept track of it like he did. He looked at the array of items scattered across his desk, and smirked. It didn't matter if she did or didn't. He still got her something.

It was stupid, he knew. He had it all figured out though. It was their senior year, class was over in a few months. He had it all planned out.

He absently picked up the little container on his desk, fingers stroking over the pot. It was actually an expensive one, although he knew it wouldn't last long. Wendy was just that worth it though...not that he was trying to buy her, but still –augh. He shook his head and gave a stretch, placing the item delicately inside an insulated box.

With a last glance around, just to make sure no sneaky Jews were spying on his romantic behaviour, he tucked the box into his jacket and went down the stairs. The journey to Wendy's, had begun.

*

He knocked at the door, fully expecting Wendy to answer it. Her mother did instead.

"Oh Cartman, dear." He smirked at the fact she still called him that, just like her daughter. "Wendy's still asleep." She explained softly "But go on up. It's about time she got up now anyway..." She handed him a bottle of aspirin to bring up, and his stomach churned at the thought of her sleeping late due to her rag.

No way in fucking hell was he picking up pads for her. He'd walk from one end of the world to the other, but no. He had to draw the line somewhere.

Fingers crossed as best they could, considering his handfuls, he made his way up to her room. Silently praying that she wasn't on the rag, because fuck. He'd seen Shelley, and that was some scary shit. Bitches were crazy.

He banged open her door as loud as he could. It would annoy her parents but at least it would alert her to the fact that he was coming in. He had only caught her sleeping once before, and the loud noise had startled her awake. It was a good tactic.

He had the feeling that trying to wake her up via touch would end up with him being beaten up again. No matter how much bigger he was than Wendy, she somehow always managed to kick the living shit out of him.

Ah, the price of love.

He finally entered with a cocky smirk on his face. The gift was clutched protectively, and he couldn't wait to give it to her. He knew she'd be surprised with how much damned thought he had put into it.

Wendy had sat up as soon as the door crashed open. The warm body beside her wasn't taking up most of her bed.

She wasn't laying on top of it.

That wasn't Eric.

Her eyes rose to the man standing her doorway, a look of horror and hatred on her face. He looked like he was ready to rip out someone's throat.

She hoped it wasn't hers.

Eric stared at the man curled up in _his_ girlfriend's bed. The anger faded away as suddenly as it came, leaving him with a cold lump in the pit of his stomach. Slowly, he unclenched his hand from the present box. He looked down at the poor thing, crumpled from his anger.

There was no point in wasting it. He set it and the aspirin on her dresser before turning and walking away. He wasn't surprised that she didn't call to him.

After all, she had Stan now.

*

He had slammed her front door, ignoring her parents prodding questions. He hadn't wanted to tell them that their daughter was a cheating lying slut. It was just easier to let them figure it out by themselves.

And as many times as he had smeared Wendy's name in the past, he had never been serious.

Plus, this was a blow to him. A low blow. It hurt.

He walked dejectedly through the streets, not bothering to pay attention to where he was going. As he turned the corner at Shakey's pizza, he collided heavily with something.

Or rather, someone collided heavily with him. He looked down slightly to stare into two eyes, practically the same color as his own. "Clyde?"

"Oh hey Cartman." The boy lisped, hugging a carton of ice cream to his chest protectively. He stared up at his friend for a moment, head tilting to the side.

Cartman snorted. Clyde looked like a little puppy, or a bird, tilting his head this way and that. Like he was hearing or seeing something that no one else did.

"What's wrong?"

Cartman did a double take. Since when the fuck did Clyde become good at reading people? That kid was more oblivious than Bebe the airhead.

He merely shook his head, hands shoving deep into his pockets. He was scowling, he knew. He was however, unaware of the sadness and hurt that lurked in his eyes.

Apparently Clyde wasn't, as he held up the carton of ice cream. "Wanna come chill?"

That, he knew, meant 'do you want to talk about it'.

Eric eyed the boy and the ice cream for a moment, before nodding. Yeah. Yeah, he did want to talk about it.

Clyde grinned and lead Eric home.


	6. Chapter 5

"I can't – I can't believe she fucking did that to you!" Clyde slurred drunkenly. He swayed in his seat, milkshake clutched tightly in his hand. Somehow, eating ice cream while watching zombie movies had turned into...

Well, mixing whiskey into milkshakes and listening to really, really crappy rap music as loud as possible. A carton of ice cream and a bottle of whiskey later, they were sprawled across the floor.

Eric wasn't like Stan. He didn't turn into a stupid drunk. He was a mean drunk. Especially when in a bad mood before getting drunk. Clyde was lucky that he hadn't pissed the slighter larger boy off yet. That temper was just waiting to snap.

"Yeah I know she's a – she's a whore." Eric agreed, nodding his head in an over exaggerated manner. He drank often with the guys, but it'd been a while seeing as Stan's panties being in a bunch had more or less expelled him from the group.

It was why he was so willing to go home with Clyde. He didn't need his friends, but it was cool to have another dude to chill with. As much as he loved Wendy, spending all of his time with her kind of sucked. He missed chilling with the guys and smoking an occasional joint.

"Y-you know, you'd think tha' hippie bitch'd be like, 'Hey you. You fucker, you, let's go like, smoke a bong, cause I'm a...I'm a hippie bitch and I like to...to fuckin'...do shit like that!'" He exclaimed, twisting sharply to look at Clyde.

He fully fell off the couch, landing on his side. His head hit the table but he simply laughed. Didn't feel it now, but he'd be feeling it tomorrow. Of that, he was sure.

"You know, we sh-should go to her house and be like, 'hey bitch! You, hippie bitch! Don't you fucking...fucking cheat on Cartman! You...bitch!'" Clyde shouted angrily, milkshake going up in the air like a torch.

Unfortunately, it came down like a milkshake. All over his shirt. He just laughed, and tugged it off.

"That's a...that's a good idea." Eric nodded, stumbling to his feet. He watched as Clyde got to his. He flicked his eyes over the back of the boys neck, confused at the little splotch of darker skin he saw. With a shrug, he didn't question anymore.

He was too drunk to care if Clyde had some weird kinda skin disease. Fuck, he was too drunk to care if it was contagious.


	7. Chapter 6

Wendy rolled, pinning Stan to the bed. She stared down at him, eyes blazing and hair wild. "I can't believe you!" Her shirt was hanging off her shoulder, nipples erect from the breeze floating in from her window.

Stan groaned, hips arching up "Baby I didn't mean to. I'm sorry mkay?" He slid his hands up her thighs, attempting a grab at her ass.

There was a loud crack as Wendy's fist met Stan's already bruised cheek. "You _assfuck_!" She screeched.

Downstairs, her parents stopped sipping at their coffee. Neither of them had even realized Stan was over. Mrs Testaburger smiled at her husband, content with the fact Stan was there. She always had liked him better than that Eric Cartman boy.

Wendy yelling at Stan was apparently a normal occurrence in their house.

"Fuck! Wendy!" Stan cried out, hand shooting up to grab his cheek.

"You're coming with me you asshole. You're coming and you're going to explain what happened. And then you're going to go to Kenny's house, and he's going to whoop your ass again." She ran a hand through her hair, sitting back on her ex-boyfriends hips. "Christ. You have to ruin everything don't you Stan? You couldn't keep our relationship going; now you're butting in on my new one."

Stan's eyes filled with guilt and he looked away. Having Wendy in his lap was amazing feeling, but...He sighed and gently moved her off of him. "I'm sorry."

"No you're not." She climbed off, hurriedly getting dressed. Stan's heart ached when she threw on Cartman's hockey jersey. She used to wear _his _jackets. She wiggled her hips into the tight jeans he loved, and then pulled on boots.

"Get your ass up Stan." She snapped, tying her hair into a ponytail. Her eyes landed on the crushed gift box. She paused, unsure of whether or not to open it...A moment of hesitation, and then she was scooping it up.

Wendy sat at her desk, fingers gently unwrapping the poor broken box. Her eyes widened in shock as she stared down at a little...bonsai tree? She hadn't known Eric knew a thing about bonsai. Her fingers stroked over the little plant, picking up its container so she could stare at it on eye level.

It was in the shape of a heart. Two little trees, melded together with silver wire. Wendy placed the tree back on her desk, burying her face into her hands and letting out a choked sob.

Stan stared at her, jeans halfway up his legs. He had always been useless in these situations.


	8. Chapter 7

Wendy flung her door open, and yelped when a fist connected solidly with her forehead. Eric Cartman stared at her dumbly, hand poised in a knocking position. Against her face.

"Ouch." She winced.

He blinked a few more times, and then let out a shuddering breath when he saw her wearing his coat. She cringed when the alcohol on his breath floated across her face. "Eric?"

"Th't you'd be with tha' fuck'r." He grumbled. Clyde nodded beside him, eyes rolling in his drunken state.

Wendy cringed. They were way too far gone, for this early in the evening. God, had she really yelled at Stan for that long? "He's still here. He has something to say to you." She cooed at her boyfriend – current boyfriend...she hoped he didn't want to break up because of this fiasco.

Stan stepped forward, body tense. He didn't want to get into another fight. First Kenny, then Wendy. He couldn't deal with getting his ass kicked by Eric fucking Cartman. He eyed his ex friend, cringing. The dude was a total tank.

Cartman drew himself to his full height, and Stan cringed again. The fatass was swaying back and forth slightly, eyes clouded. He was clearly trying to sober himself up. He wanted to hear what Stan had to say.

The raven haired boy sighed. "Wendy wants me to tell you the truth." He started. He eyed his old lover, the jacket she wore. Once more, need and lust filled him from within. He blinked, and began talking again. The truth never left his mouth. "She and I have been seeing each other for over a week now. She didn't want to hurt you, so we decided to keep it a secret."

"He's lying." A dejected voice pointed out before Wendy could even open her mouth to protest.

Cartman's eyes swung around to the other brunet in the group. He stared at Clyde, head tilted. "Wha'ya mean?"

"He's lying. Wendy's a- she's a b'tch." He slurred, pointing at the girl he spoke of. "Not a p-pussy."

Wendy didn't know whether it was a compliment, or an insult. She decided to take it as a compliment. "Stan. I would appreciate it if you got off my property." Her voice was low, cold.

Stan took a deep breath through his nose, and turned. "I'm just parked around the corner." He mentioned. As soon as the words escaped him, he knew no one cared. The other three stared at him.

One was glaring, the other scowling, and the third was swaying drunkenly where he stood. Stan sighed and walked away.

"You should go home Eric." Wendy rubbed his arm. "I need to go do damage control with my parents. Please go home. Get some sleep, then come back here. I need to thank you for my anniversary gift." She leaned up on her tiptoes, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

"M'kay...You...?" He mumbled, trying to collect his thoughts. His brow furrowed in confusion and he sighed angrily.

"I didn't forget our anniversary. We'll do something nice, soon. I promise. I'm sorry." She kissed him once more, and then looked at Clyde. "Do you think you can manage taking him home?"

The slimmer brunet nodded, before slinging an arm drunkenly around Cartman's shoulders. It looked strange, with Clyde being a few inches shorter. It made her smile though.

She stood on her stoop, waving at them even when they were no longer peeking at her, from over their shoulders. When their backs were out of sight, Wendy slipped inside to talk to her parents about the Stan issue.

*

He sat in his truck, rye bottle clutched in his hand. He wasn't crying anymore. _I guess I finished that last night_ he mused, eyes staring blurrily at the road. He twisted the key, humming along with the rumble of his engine.

*

Kenny hummed, nuzzling into his lovers back. He sighed, pressing a kiss between slim shoulder blades. "I have a bad feeling."

"I'm sure it's nothing." His small love replied in a distracted voice.

*

Liane stood, walking to her window. She stared outside, unable to shake the lonely feeling away. She looked at the sink of empty dishes, sighing. Liane hadn't heard from her poopsikins since yesterday morning. He was fine, she knew that much. He disappeared like that often.

_He never stays away for long_, she reminded herself. Laughing to the quiet of her house, Liane walked to the fridge. Best to make his favourite meal; she had a feeling he'd be coming home tonight.

*

Wendy slammed her bedroom door, filled with anger towards her parents. She collapsed into her desk chair, folding her arms across the table so she could rest. She giggled when she caught sight of the small bonsai.

Wendy reached out and stroked the leaves. The thing looked very well cared for. She wondered if he had grown it himself, or bought it...Bonsai took a long time...

She fell asleep on her desk, dreaming of sex under heart shaped trees.

*

Clyde wondered why it was taking them so long to get to Eric's house. It wasn't particularly far from Wendy's. _Oh right, we're drunk_ he laughed mentally, shaking his head. He stumbled ahead of Cartman a bit, not bothering to look both ways before he crossed. It was South Park. There was no traffic in South Park.

He tripped over his own feet at the sound of screeching tires.

Skid. Bang. A crack, a scream. Clyde turned around, dizzy from moving so fast.

He fainted.

*

_A familiar truck, flying around the corner. His drunken self didn't register what was happening. A sharp pain started in his side, then he was flying. Or at least, it felt like flying._

_He stared at Clyde, watching as he moved further away. But that didn't make sense, Clyde was laying down. If he wasn't moving then that meant – Ow._

_Pain flared in his side once more, as he hit the pavement hard. He rolled, staring ahead as the truck spun out of control. The front hit a street lamp, the whole thing curving in. He wondered vaguely if someone caught that on film. It would have made some sweet footage._

_Black? He must be dreaming. He closed his eyes, smiling. Man, he wished he had his camera._

*

Wendy groaned when her mother shoved at her shoulder. She could hear the woman yelling, but was too tired to care. She was probably bitching about the laundry. The woman was damn persistent, but Wendy figured that's where she got her own stubborn behaviour from.

She opened her eyes, staring blearily at her mother. "What do you want?"

"Phone's for you." She breathed out. Wendy tensed at the tone, and her mother's pale cheeks.

She snatched the phone, putting it to her ear. "Hello?" She could feel panic grasping at her throat, choking her.

"Wendy?" A sobbing voice asked her.

"Mrs Cartman?"

"Wendy, oh God, Wendy. You have to come. You have to –"

"Mrs Cartman, come where? What's going on?" Wendy jumped to her feet, forcing her boots on for the second time that day. She ran out the door, nearly barrelling her mom over in the process.

"Hell's Pass. You have to come. There was an accident and oh G-"

The phone died.

Wendy looked down at the phone. Of course, her parents hadn't put it on the cradle last night. "You have to take me to the hospital." She told her dad.

He heard the desperation in her voice. In less than a minute, they were out the door and in the car.

*

She ran up the steps, her dad trailing along behind her. The doors were pushed open forcefully, and didn't bother holding it open for her dad.

The secretary opened her mouth to ask Wendy what she was looking for.

Wendy didn't bother responding. Thanks to Kenny, Stan and Token, she knew the way to the waiting room by heart. She didn't slow her pace, but rather sped up. "Mrs Cartman!" She gasped when finally, finally, she burst through the doors to the waiting room.

She blinked in shock. The Donovan's, as well as the Broflovski's were there. _Broflovski's minus Kyle_ she corrected herself.

"Wendy." The woman took a shuddering breath, and then stumbled forward. She pulled the younger girl to her chest, burying her face into Wendy's hair. Liane's fingers curled into the sleeves of the jacket Wendy wore. She held on desperately, clinging at the one thing she had of her sons.

"Liane." Wendy's father soothed as he walked into the room.

"There was an accident..." Sheila started. "The Cartman boy got hit by a car."

"Where's Stan?"

Everyone looked at the door as Randy Marsh burst into the room.

"Getting his stomach pumped." Gerald hissed. He and Mr Donovan moved forward together, trying to nudge Randy out of the room.

"Why? What's going on? What happened to Stanley?" Sharon snapped, trying to force her way in. Her eyes were dark with the protectiveness that only a mother could possess.

"He got drunk and hit the Cartman boy." Sheila said finally.

Wendy spun on her, eyes wild. "What did you just say Mrs Broflovski?"

"Stanley got drunk. He wasn't paying attention and he – he hit Eric."

Wendy took a deep breath, closing her eyes. "Where's Clyde?"

"He fainted. He's in emergency, they don't know if he got hurt at all." Mr Donovan supplied, staring at the girl with pity in his eyes. He looked at his wife, then at Liane. The latter was still crying, but he shook his head, gesturing for her to be quiet.

"Holy fucking hell." Wendy breathed. "What are they going to do? Where's Kyle? He's the only one with the same blood type as Eric!" She cried, remembering when Eric was forced to give Kyle his kidney.

"We can't get ahold of him." Sheila whispered.

"He must have turned his cell phone off." Gerald added.

Ike simply crossed his eyes and looked at the ground. Wendy wondered if he knew something, but wasn't telling. _After all, _She thought, _I'd save my brothers ass before Eric's life, if I were him. Kyle and Eric don't even like each other._

"That's not entirely true." Mrs Donovan said softly. Her husband spun on her, telling her to shut up. Her head snapped up, and she glared right back. "Our son is _dying_. Don't you care at all?"

The other occupants of the room looked confused. Liane merely covered her mouth in shock.

"He's not our son. You're the one who decided that." Mr Donovan pointed at Liane. "He's her son. And I'm glad he's not ours. He's a spoiled little fu-" Smack.

Mrs Donovan stared at her hand in shock. Never had she even thought about hitting her husband. She trembled, backing away from him. Liane moved forward, drawing her into her arms.

"What are you two talking about?" Gerald cried, arms flying up into the air. It earned him a glare from the Donovan's, but he had simply voiced the question swimming through everyone's heads.

Liane and Mrs Donovan exchanged a glance. Finally, Mrs Donovan nodded.

With a sigh, she turned to face the rest of the room. "I think you should all sit down."


	9. Chapter 8

Mrs. Donovan paced back and forth as everyone took their seats. Liane stood off to the side, eyes downcast, but back straight. Smiling, Mrs. Donovan admired the woman who was lending her strength. As usual, she was calm, and poised. Liane Cartman appeared to be a woman who wouldn't be swayed by the words of anyone.

She opened her mouth to finally speak, and mentally cursed when a small voice interrupted her.

"Mom? What's going on?"

Mrs. Donovan turned to stare at her son. Her eyes softened when she saw the state he was in.

Clyde wore a hospital gown, and she noticed he was naked beneath it. Her eyes moved up, and she saw Randy looking away. _I guess his bottoms showing_ she snickered mentally. Only her Clyde...She frowned again when she saw the IV pole his way holding on to.

Clyde had always hated needles. Now, he was stumbling around hallways with one pumping fluids into him. She looked once more at Liane. At the same time, both women smiled.

A single, similar thought floated through their minds. _They grow up so fast._

Mrs. Donovan moved forward, gently ushering her son into a seat. "Baby, how do you feel? Did the doctor say you could get up?" She crooned, fingers stroking his floppy brown hair out of his eyes.

"I'm fine, and they said its okay. Is...Is Cartman okay?" Now sober, Clyde refused to call the other boy by his first name.

"We have something we have to tell you." She answered instead, hands still stroking. It was a nervous habit of hers, but as his eyelids grew droopy, she realized her son didn't care.

"We? We who?" Mr. Donovan muttered, eyes dark with anger. His foot was jumping up and down in an agitated manner that everyone tried to ignore.

"Okay." Clyde leaned his head into his mother's stomach, tilting it back so he could stare at her face. The look showed her that she had his full attention.

Liane sat beside Clyde, taking one of his hands into bother of hers. She clasped it loosely, smiling when he turned to look at her.

The boy smiled back. He had always liked Mrs. Cartman. She was always nice, and he could remember several times in his childhood where she was kind to him.

"Remember the time you asked me why you didn't have any siblings?" Mrs. Donovan started. All eyes turned to her at once.

Clyde nodded, rubbing his cheek against his mother. He was bruised from falling, had a needle stuck in his arm, he was tired, and no one had told him if Eric was okay. He didn't give two damns if he looked like a pussy. He needed his mom. "You told me that you didn't want other kids. Because I was perfect, and you didn't want any other children to feel bad because of how awesome I was." He was grinning as he said it. He knew it was a childish thing of his mother to say, but it had made his eight year old heart soar when she said it.

"Well, you are perfect. But I lied; I did want more children." She took a deep breath, cheeks coloring with the embarrassment of what she was about to confess. Liane reached out, holding tightly at her hand, once more lending her strength. Mrs. Donovan realized she owed Liane the world, and then some. "I'm infertile"

Clyde blinked slowly, "So, after I was born, you just like...couldn't have kids anymore."

"No. I could never have children." She spoke more confidently, casting a glance around the room. Everyone was still staring at her, but she was relieved to see that only Sheila was giving her a look of judgment. _That lady rates and reviews everything._

"A-are you telling me I'm adopted?" Clyde shouted, horrified. He jerked away, staring at his mother with a look of deep hurt in his eyes.

"No!" She cried, shaking her head furiously. "You're not adopted. And...You..." She choked on the words, looking desperately at Liane.

The other woman took over. "You have a brother." She explained calmly. Her voice wasn't its usual happy tone. "A twin."

Clyde stared at her in awe, before licking his lips.

"Where? Who is he?"

"It's Eric." Mrs. Cartman held up a hand, silencing any responses from the room. "Your mother couldn't bare children, and I was always going away for weeks at a time. We had...someone..." She frowned, "Do invetro. You're still fully the flesh and blood of your mother and father, but I carried you to term."

"The contract," Mrs. Donovan continued, "Was only for one child. They never noticed the twin. Eric was born first. Liane had grown so attached to you both that we...We let her keep him. We signed the papers over. It's why Eric's father is listed as unknown, and his mother as Liane."

"You can't be serious." Sheila started, with a sneer. She stood and stormed over. "No one else had the same blood type as Kyle."

"Our doctor is in Denver." Mr. Donovan snapped quickly. He was already on edge. He didn't need to be accused of being a liar on top of it all.

"What about Mephisto? He told us that Liane was Eric's dad." Gerald pointed out, trying to get his wife to sit back down.

Liane sighed, eyes rolling towards the ceiling. "Dr Mephisto was the one who did the invetro. He knew we didn't want anyone to know. We talked to him during the blood and semen tests. He kept putting the result off, hoping to confuse us."

"So you lied." Sharon said coldly, "To protect the Donovan's sons. Made yourself out to be a whore, just to protect them? Wouldn't the truth have been easier? You scarred that boy for life, Liane."

"Don't tell me how to raise my son." Liane hissed, standing and releasing Clyde's hand. Everyone blinked, surprised at the animosity.

"He's not yours." Sharon replied, eyebrow raised.

"I carried him inside of me Sharon. I gave birth to him, and I raised him as my own. For all of that, he is my son. He may not have my DNA, but he's mine, and mine alone."

"So I guess my Bubbe's correct in calling him the son of a whore." Sheila told Sharon. Her face was twisted into a disgusted frown.

Liane sighed in annoyance. "You all have husbands who support you. Who work hard to supply you with lives. None of you are single parents. Do you have any idea how hard it is to raise a child on your own? It's difficult. I may not be the best person around, but I try my damnedest to be the best mother I can be. I'm out making money so my son can go to school, can have a life, while you sit around and gossip with each other." Her voice was rising at an alarming rate.

Mrs. Donovan reached for Liane. Her hand made contact with the other woman's shoulder, and she was instantly soothed. "We may not have made the right decisions, but at the time, they were the only ones we could think of. Everyone makes mistakes."

"None that so horribly affect the lives of our children." Sheila sniffed.

"Are you fucking joking? You started a war with Canada, and almost got us all killed." Clyde snapped suddenly. They all looked at the boy in surprise. They had almost forgotten he was there. "Randy let some dude piss in his face, because they wanted to see how pee fucked us up. Sharon supports everything you freaking Broflovski's do. You know, in comparison, lying about something like this seems trivial to the fuck ups you made _your_ kids live through."

As the other adults spluttered, Liane and Mrs. Donovan both hugged Clyde. They smiled at each other over his head, amusement dancing in both their eyes. It was refreshing to hear someone so thoroughly put Sheila in her place.

"No one's told me how Cart...Eric's doing." He corrected. His mind whirled suddenly, at the thought that shit, Eric Cartman was his brother. His twin fucking brother. Who just got hit by a car. Everyone noticed how Clyde's cheeks drained, leaving him pale and ill looking.

Liane bit her lower lip, silent for a moment. "He's not doing all that well Clyde. Kyle's the only one besides you, who has the same blood type as him. The chances of him pulling out of this are..." She broke off, hands sliding up to cover her mouth. She stared teary eyed at the wall, taking deep breaths through her nose in an attempt to calm herself down. "They're slim." She finally whispered, sliding back into the chair. She looked like a broken doll. Like someone had just ripped her heart out of her chest, and then eaten it while it was still beating.

"So what are you saying?" Clyde asked, slightly panicked. He stumbled to his feet, nearly pulling the plug on his IV as he went. "You can't just tell me that he's my fucking _twin_ then tell me he's _dying_!"

"He needs blood or he will die. We can't get a hold of Kyle. We think he turned his cell phone off." Mrs. Donovan soothed, rubbing her sons back.

"But I have the same blood type as him? We're sure?" Clyde asked eagerly. His mother gave him a confused look, but nodded none the less.

"So let me give him blood. I mean, we're twins. We have the same blood type. I'm already in a hospital gown and God knows when Kyle's going to get back to us!"

"Clyde you hate needles." His father reminded. It earned him dirty looks from both Liane and his wife.

"I don't fucking care dad." He gave his father a look of disgust, before turning to Wendy. "Do you want to come with me?"

The girl stood from her chair and walked over to warp her arms around one of Clyde's. "I'll hold your hand." She teased, giving him a tired smile.

Clyde returned the look, before grinning grimly at his mom. "Go tell the doctor you found someone willing to help."

Mrs. Donovan grabbed Liane's arm. Together, they walked out of the room. Restored was their belief that they had done right by their sons. Gone was the burden of secrets that weighed more than anyone had anticipated.


	10. Chapter 9

"-lo? Hellooo? Clyde! Come over here, I think he's waking up!"

Eric blinked blearily up at the lights. Why the fuck were they so bright? The lights in his room weren't that goddamn bright. And why was Wendy in his room? Better yet...Why the hell was _Clyde_ in his room? _No homo, no homo!_ He shrieked mentally, willing his body to move. After what seemed like ten minutes of trying - but was probably only five seconds - he gave up. _Tch, I didn't get fat by exercising all the time_ he gloated to himself, letting his eyes drift shut again.

An annoying set of manly hands settled in front of his face, fingers snapping together in an off-beat rhythm. "I swear to God, I will fucking _kill you_." He attempted to growl. His voice came out scratchy and worn. Coughing, he frowned in confusion. _What the fuck? Do I have a cold or something?_

"That's the Eric we know and love." The voice chirped. With narrowed eyes, Cartman identified it as Clyde.

Identified by voice...he blinked a few times, startled when the only thing he saw was brightness.

"Here you go sleepy face. Brought you some water." What he could only imagine was a straw, poked into his lower lip. He heard Wendy laugh somewhere to his left.

"Clyde, he's going to kill you for that. You know his no homo rule. Let me help him" She insisted. The water was taken away, then replaced. "Go on Eric, have some. Your throat could probably use it. Don't drink too fast though. The doctor says he doesn't want you to fill up your stomach too fast."

"Oh please, like that thing's ever full." A snotty voice hummed from in front of him.

_Kahl._

"Kyle shut up!" And there was Kenny. He wondered where Stan was. It was strange to see him away from Kyle. What happened to the dynamic fucking duo?

"Oh, I'm just teasing him." Kyle replied. His voice was soft though, and Eric could pick up on the guilt. _Heh. He's like an open book._

The straw nudged insistently at his lip, so he took an indulgent sip. He relaxed further into the pillows when the water cooled his parched throat. Slowly, he finished the entire cup. Once it was taken away, he decided he would try talking again. "Where the fuck am I?"

He kept the panic out of his voice. Silently, he thanked years of being an emotionless prick for that. It would be no good to seem scared around Kyle. Jews were like dogs - they could smell fear. And once they got the scent, there was no stopping them.

There was silence for a long moment. Finally, Kenny spoke. "You're in the hospital."

"Why?" His voice remained as even as he could keep it. He knew no one would pick up on the faint tremor.

"You got hit by a truck." Kyle replied hastily. There was a hiss of pain, and a snap of "Kenny!" to indicate that someone had smacked the Jew. Eric smiled triumphantly. Finally, someone besides him was taking an interest in Jew abuse.

"They catch the fucker who did it?" He asked boredly. Fuck if he cared. His mom would pay for the bills, and he was alive. That was all that mattered. A bead of sweat trickled down his face and he internally shook himself. _Get a hold of your brain Eric. You can't act like a fucking pussy. Don't let them know something's wrong._

"It was Stan." Kenny said bravely. He could imagine the boy with his arm crossed, eyes cold. Fuck, even he wouldn't want to scrap with Kenny. McCormick's were tough little fucker's...

"Whoa, wait, what? Stan?" He spluttered, drawing his mind back to the topic on hand.

"He was drunk." Wendy explained. He could hear the sadness in her voice.

It was silent once more.

"Why the fuck can't I see?" He blurted suddenly, unable to keep the question back any longer.

"What?" Wendy sounded scared.

"Do I have bandages over my eyes? Why the fuck can't I see?"

"I'm going to go get the doctor." Wendy said instead. He could hear the heels of her boots clicking quickly against the tiles, as she rushed away.

"Jesus fucking Christ." Clyde whispered. The side of his bed sunk in as the boy sat. Eric attempted to kick him.

"Ay! Get offa my bed asshole!"

"Just shut up for a minute, okay? I need to think."

Eric allowed Clyde his minute...Then he kicked him again. "How long have I been in here?"

"Almost a week" The other brunet replied softly. "You've only been awake a few times. I've been here the whole time. In the bed right over there...um...Right beside yours."

"Ew. No homo, faggot. Why the fuck are you sleeping in my room?"

"I-"

"Mr. Cartman?" A voice interrupted. Eric frowned, annoyed at the disruption.

"Yeah that's me..."

"I'm the doctor here, whose been looking after you this week. I just need to check your eyes. This is the first time you've been fully coherent. Can you please open your eyes for me?"

He felt cold, distant hands grabbing at his face. He cringed, startled at the sudden touching.

"You can keep taking Mr. Donovan."

"Thanks..." Clyde said, sounding confused. He took a deep, calming breath before he started talking. "Well, after you had your accident, our parents sat down with Wendy and me and had a discussion. They told us a huge secret."

"Okay." Eric rolled his eyes, ignoring the doctor's request that he not move them for a moment. "What the fuck did they tell you that had you sleeping in my room?"

"Well, for one, I have the same blood type as you."

"So? So does the Jewfag over there." He didn't bother pointing. He knew he couldn't tell where Kyle was. Fuck, he didn't even know if the boy was still in the room with them, or if he had left.

"Yeah. But we have the same. The same genetics."

"Clyde." Eric started talking, voice completely serious. "Were you doing drugs with Kinneh?"

"No. Fuck." Clyde sounded frustrated. "I'm trying to tell you something serious you asshole. This isn't easy for me. It's already been a week, and I hardly accept it myself. You're going to flip your shit. I...fuck. Fuck it. We're twins. You and I are twins."

Eric blinked several times, ignoring the doctors annoyed orders to 'stay still'.

"Excuse you?"

"We're twins. My mom couldn't have kids. They got Mephisto to do invetro to your mom. And since there was two of us, your mom got to keep one..."

"Like a fucking prize? From a vending machine?" Eric was sitting, ignoring the sudden, flaring pain that seized his body. He was shouting, and the doctor had been shoved away. "What the fuck are you _saying_ Clyde?!"

"We're twins." Clyde repeated.

"You're blind." Said the doctor.


	11. Chapter 10

"He can't be blind!" Liane cried, shoving the doctor. The violence was out of character, but she couldn't stand the thought of her son being any more hurt than he already was. "How did you not notice before? How did this happen?" She sobbed. She spun to Mrs. Donovan, burying her face against the other woman's shoulder.

Mrs. Donovan shed a few tears along with her. Liane had raised the boy, but he was still her flesh and blood. Something deep within her ached at the injustice of it all. Sure, Eric wasn't the nicest boy around, but no one deserved the horrors he'd had to face in such a small amount of time.

"He wasn't coherent enough for us to check before." The doctor explained, annoyingly calm. He stared at the women with a detached curiosity, wondering if they were lesbians. He hadn't seen a man enter the room since the boys were admitted. "When people get severe head trauma, sometimes they lose their sight. They can lose other things too. We should be happy that all he lost was his sight."

"We should be _happy_?" Liane cried indignantly, drawing herself up to her full height. Eric made not have been her son by blood, but he had a lot of her mannerisms.

"He's not dead." The doctor replied simply. He cast them one final, cold look before walking away. "You can check him out at any time. The nurse will show you how to change the bandages." He called over his shoulder.

"I hate this fucking hospital." Mrs. Donovan whispered.

"Do you think Clyde could come spend a few days at our house? Your husband..." Liane trailed off, cringing as she remembered the fight from three nights ago.

"It would be for the best." Mrs. Donovan rubbed Liane's back as the two women walked towards the hospital room. Neither of them wanted to think about Eric being blind. It was just...tragic.

Liane wondered if Clyde had told him. The boy had promised he would, but after news like that...She closed her eyes as they walked, trusting Mrs. Donovan to lead her in the right direction. A small smile broke through her sadness. Despite all the horrible things going on around them, she could feel a bond building between Mrs. Donovan and herself. She wished it had been there before the pregnancy. Inside, she knew they could be close friends.

Liane went into the room first. The children fell silent as they stared at her. It was Wendy who finally spoke.

"Hello Mrs. Cartman." She said softly. She was sitting on the right side of Eric, holding his hand. Clyde sat on his left, although he wasn't holding his brothers hand. Liane smiled as she thought of Eric's no homo rule.

She watched as her sons head shot up. The door was straight ahead of the bed, and his clouded eyes were staring directly at her. A small shiver slid up her spine. "You fat fucking lying whore!" He screamed.

Liane stumbled back from the force of his words. They hurt like an actual blow. "Poopsiki-"

"_Don't you dare call me that_" He snarled in a darker voice than she'd ever heard him use. "You have no fucking right to call me that. I'm not your poopsikins. I'm not your anything. I'm a fucking lie. You're a fucking liar. I can't believe you! You're disgusting!"

Liane sobbed for the hundredth time that day. "Eric please-"

"No. Just go away! I _hate _you!" He bellowed, face red with rage.

That hurt. Never had he said he hated her - at least, never in a voice that sounded truthful. As a child, he had mumbled it into her leg, clinging at her. Little muffled 'I hate you's that were soon turned into smiles and happiness, when she showered him with love.

"Oh my God, Eric, calm down!" Wendy shouted suddenly. Her boyfriend swiveled his head around to glare at her...or rather, in her general direction. "Jesus, she's your mother."

"She's not she -"

"Raised you, fed you, clothed you, took care of you? Held you when you cried? Bought you every single fucking thing that you wanted? She's bent over backwards to make you happy Eric, and now you're treating her like this? You're ridiculous! She's still your mother no matter what."

Eric took a deep breath through his nose, leaning back down into the pillows. He didn't apologize, but the way he was nibbling his lip told Liane that he was sorry. That he was sad.

"Wendy...did you want to come spend a few nights at the house? Clyde's coming. Your mom and dad already gave the okay." She told the black haired girl while giving her a gentle, thankful smile.

"That'd be great Mrs. Cartman. Thank you so much." Wendy kissed her boyfriend's forehead. "I should probably go get some clean clothes, and my shampoo."

"Yes. You can take Clyde with you. We'll meet you both back at the house. Is that okay?"

Clyde and Wendy nodded, grabbing whatever little things they had left in the room before scurrying off.

Liane listened attentively as the nurse showed her how to change the bandages. She kept her cry of shock and disgust down, when she saw how ripped up her poor baby was. She hoped the scraps of road rash didn't end up scarring.

*

"Officer Barbrady, what brings you here?" Wendy asked the man cheerfully. He was always amusing, and she was in desperate need of a laugh.

"Just here to pick someone up." The officer replied in his strange voice, looking around for the secretary. The hospital was supposed to always have at least one person on the front desk. No one was to be found.

"Oh? Who're you looking for?" Clyde chimed in, head tilted to the side. Wendy grinned. She thought Clyde looked like an oversized puppy dog, curious about everyone and everything.

"A mister Stanley Marsh." Barbrady read off a slip of paper.

Wendy choked on air. "Stan? What for?" She gave the officer a horrified look, heart pounding wildly in his chest.

"Well it says he's being charged for driving while under the influence, and for hitting a pedestrian."

"What's the maximum?" Clyde asked. His face was blank, and Wendy wondered if he was glad that Stan was being charged.

"Maximum is three years, minimum, six months." Barbrady shrugged, finally catching sight of a nurse. "I'll catch you two later. Have a good day kids!"

"Stan can't go to jail." Wendy whispered to Clyde, clinging at his arm as they walked out of the hospital.

As they stepped out into the streets, seeing the people of South Park bustling about their days, Clyde sighed. "Yeah, Wends. He can."


	12. Chapter 11

"Why does it sound like two fags are making out on Kinneh's bed?" Eric hollered as they burst into the poor boy's bedroom.

"Cause two fags are making out on Kenny's bed." Clyde replied, bursting into laughter at the look on Kyle's face. "Man Eric, I wish you could see how red he is!"

Over the past few months, they had gotten used to Eric being unable to see. It was something that they had all gradually come to terms with. Really, it seemed to bring them closer together. Eric wasn't able to be distant anymore. He needed to be close with people in order to survive. He needed them, and they were glad to give their help.

"Tch, I can just imagine. You have no idea how many times I've made that pussy blush."

Kenny laughed at the implications, causing Eric himself to turn red. "AY! Not like that you sick pervert po'boy!"

Kyle made fake dry heaving noises, as he rolling around on Kenny's mattress - which was just that...a mattress on the floor of his bedroom. "Ew Ken, I can't even believe you thought that. Oh God, I'm gonna be sick." He fake vomited some more, knowing the noise grossed Eric out like no tomorrow.

Kenny sobered up after a few seconds, calming his laughter down. "We have to get going, don't we?"

Everyone else quieted, sighing to themselves. It was strange, how after all of that, Kenny ended up being the voice of reason. Losing his best friend had been hard on Kyle. The boy had looked to all of them for comfort, and quickly adopted Clyde and Kenny as an easy alternative. When Ken was working, Kyle's time was spent at the Cartman residence, where Clyde was staying while his parents got a divorce.

Don't get me wrong. Him and Cartman still hated each other like no tomorrow, but drinking around Liane was a lot better than trying to so much as fart around his own mother. Clyde was nice though, and fairly fun when he wasn't chilling with that asshole Craig.

Kyle stood and slipped his beat up running shoes on once more. "We better get going. I don't want to be late."

The four of them somehow managed to squeeze into Kenny's broken up truck. It was a tight fit, but they dealt with it. Kyle and Clyde were squished in the middle, Eric's head leaning on the closed window. It was at the point where he was content with being unable to see. He didn't bother wishing for his sight back anymore.

"I don't hate him you know?" He mumbled gruffly after driving for only five minutes.

"Don't hate who?" Kyle asked softly. He knew the answer. He just wanted to hear Eric say it. He knew fatass knew what he was up to as well.

Eric sighed and tilted his head back against the seat. "Stan. I don't hate Stan. Wendy's hot. I woulda plowed someone over for a piece of her too." He smirked, trying to lighten the heaviness of his words.

"So why don't you drop the charges before this goes too far?" Kyle's voice held a desperate tinge to the tone. Stan was a giant idiot, but he was a giant idiot that had been Kyle's best friend his entire life. Kyle was moving on, but it still hurt. He had had to pick fatass over his super best friend.

Clyde's head shot up and towards Kyle. "You don't know?"

Kenny turned towards Clyde, keeping one eye on the road. "Know what Donovan?"

"Eric never pressed chargers. My dad is."

Kyle and Kenny returned their gazes to the road. Everyone sat in silence for the rest of the ride.

*

"We sentence the defendant to twelve months of community service." The judge spoke finally, finalizing her words. Everyone rose as she left the room with a sweep of her robes.

Stan had teary eyes as he stood up. He was on probation, just had to do hours of service every week. He thanked God that he wouldn't have to go to jail. He gave Gerald Broflovski a quick hug, before going to his own family.

As Cartman approached, flanked by Kenny, Kyle and Clyde, Stan cringed and hugged his mother tighter.

"Yo." The largest of the group said, staring unseeingly at Stan. Stan felt a shudder run up his spine at that gaze.

"Look if you've come here to beat my face in, go right ah-"

"Came to say congratulations." Eric stated with a shrug. "On not getting your ass landed in jail. You wouldn't have lasted a week. I'm an asshole but I don't wanna see a little pussy like you get raped until he dies." He was smirking. Trying to show Stan that no. They weren't cool. But at the same time, they weren't enemies.

"I'll see ya'round." Eric waved, and turned. Clyde's hand went to his arm instantly, leading him out of the courthouse.

Stan stared at their retreating backs, smiling and wondering when Eric Cartman grew up.

*

Eric answered his cell phone with an annoyed grunt. He was expecting it to be his mom, but he was met with the distraught voice of his girlfriend.

"Wendy, what the fucks wrong?"

She hadn't been at the hearing with them. She had a doctors appointment - girlie things, she had told him, when he asked if she needed him to go with her.

"Eric. You have to come home. I need to talk to you." She blurted, words running together as she spoke faster than her lips could form words.

"Wendy what are you talking about? What did the doctor say?" Eric snapped, angry and sick with fear. He hoped to God that she didn't have vag cancer. That would suck.

"God Dammit, I'm fucking pregnant."

*

And that my friends, is the end. We'll be getting an epilogue, but this fanfic has come to an end. I hope you enjoyed your time reading =) If anyone wants to find out more about what happens, I may make a sequel. Give me your opinions :D


	13. Epilogue

_**AN: I wasn't going to do an Epilogue, and then I decided I should since I told you all that I would. Once this is all finished, we finally get to start on the sequel.**_

_**Thank you so much, to all of you that read through this. I know it had a slow beginning, and I'm glad that you all stuck out until the end. It means a lot that this story is liked.**_

_**A special thanks to my very best friend, Deanna. You and I developed this baby idea, and it turned into a fanfic. Now it's canon for us. I probably wouldn't have continued this fic if you hadn't been there, eager to read. **_

_**Sorry that it took me so long to get the Epilogue out, but as I said, I wasn't originally planning on doing it. I needed to make my Dee happy somehow so I figured this would be the best way. Thank you all again, and keep your eyes out for the sequel!**_

**Epilogue - Endings are Only Beginnings**

"Bebe am I doing the right thing?" Wendy whispered as she stared at herself in the mirror. A sheer veil fell over her face. She knew her...fiancé...couldn't see her, but she still felt the need to look her best for him. It had been hard, with her stomach sticking out as far as it did.

Wendy had been a tiny girl, so at four months, she was definitely showing. They had had to have the dress altered to fit her stomach. Despite looking a few sizes too big, she couldn't help but feel gorgeous. Her skin had the smooth, rosy glow of pregnancy and her eyes shone with love for her unborn child. She hadn't been intending to keep it but...

"I don't know Wends. That's up to you." Bebe pushed the veil to the side so she could kiss her friends cheek. "But I bet if it weren't the right thing, you wouldn't be standing here." She said softly, smiling adoringly at her best friend. They were closer than Stan and Kyle were...had been.

"Thank you Bebe." Wendy told her friend softly, raising her eyes when Heidi and Rebecca strode into the room. Their dresses were mix and matched. Wendy wore white, Bebe in red, Heidi in pink and Red in blue. Wendy smiled at how strange they looked.

The image she had in her head, of a perfect wedding, had changed drastically. There was no overflow of flowers. No soft music, gentle lights. There was only a girl's bathroom that smelled heavily of cleaning products, and a man at a podium waiting in the hall. However, she had never felt more right in her life. A small part of her wished that her mom and dad could be there, but they weren't exactly on the best terms.

Needless to say, she'd been staying at the Cartman house since she told her parents and they exploded. _They used to be reasonable people._ She mused, flipping her veil over her face to check her makeup once more. If it had been Stan, she knew they'd be happier about it...

"It's time." A voice chirped from the door. Kenny's head of blond hair was sticking in, and he stared at the girls with a happy – albeit lewd – expression. "You look hot Wendy." He grinned at her, eyes playful.

"I'm going to tell Kyle on you." She warned, walking forward slowly. She used to be able to walk in heels without a problem, but the tummy at put her equilibrium off balance. Kenny grasped her arm gently, and led her out.

"I'm giving you away." He told her, kissing her cheek. She blinked at him curiously.

"Well, Clyde's Cartman's best man, and I wanted to do something. Plus, Kyle's too short to give you away." He explained, straightening to his full height. His tuxedo was a powder blue color, the only one he could afford to rent. She felt a pang of guilt that he had spent money to go to _her_ 'wedding'.

Her heart sped up as Kenny let her go, giving her a nudge towards her fiancé. She walked slowly, turning to face Eric once she was in front of him. The man at the podium looked surprised by how many people their well. That, and the fact that they were _actually_ dressed up.

When she blinked at him curiously, he hurried on with the vows. They were rushed, not nearly as pretty as her aunt's wedding had been. Still, she couldn't think of a more perfect place to be. "I do." She whispered softly, attention focused solely on Eric's unseeing eyes.

His hands reached up to touch her face, feeling what he couldn't see. Her veil was lifted slowly, before she pulled him down for a deep kiss. The resounding cheers of their friends echoed along the hallway of the building.

The other people waiting in line looked confused, amused, and happy.

Wendy turned to face their joined group of friends, and her heart swelled. She bit her lip to stop from crying.

Her girls, dressed in varying colors and standing on her side, eyes proud and full of love.

And then their boys. Kenny, Kyle, Clyde. Everyone wore a different color. They looked so out of place. A mix and match group.

She shook her head as she realized she wouldn't have it any other way.


End file.
